Fairly dark subject matter about the dark night of the soul and the hell of mornings for an addict. That hypnogogic state, the dawn after the weekend before, the after effects of excess, stuck in your own nightmare-scape, too exhausted to leave the bed and you can’t face life, just stuck there in the darkness figuratively and literally, the insomniac hallucinations cause demons and shadow people to appear and mutate, whispering and watching you watching. Spiritually disfigured, serotonin levels at zero, the electricity of anxiety, vague horrifying memories of remorse, not sure which are real and which are nightmares, questioning it all. Yearning for peace of mind, for sleep, a softer dimension away from here.